Happy Thanksgiving 2017

Engaged 

Imagine: Moments
stream and you, at the lake's edge
on the placid side,
reflection transformed
in an instant by a question:
"Will you marry me?"
dropped like a pebble
making smiles ripple, hearing 
the answer rain down
pitter-pattering
on an ancient memory slate:
"Yes. Yes. Yes. I will!"

10-4-2017

At first, I wished you had been there to see
the children, arms spread, running in the grassy
expanse under the new fall sky with a leaf sea
forming (a drop at a time); while we listened to the Modern Lovers' sassy,
naive declaration of independence: "I'm a Little Airplane--Neeeyow"
you could have brought the image compression lens
you had concocted out of a huge cardboard tube. I see now
the futility of the wish, but like the idea it sends:
we always want somehow to pack eternity into the moment
as if it were not already saved by the experience. When
memory fades, faith (and the experience of others so bent
as we are) carries something like it. Call it a replica, then;
a snapshot taken with a different camera yet still seen
as the children run away, arms spread, from everything we've been.

4-7-2017

Superpowers and Achilles' Heel

Suckerpunched by a cartoon! Alas and alack!
O how your frown turned upside down when
I revealed my hero to be Linus van Pelt and then
Melded the card that read: "Wearing a jetpack."
And you a giant too, but with the flaw of laughter
Dooming you. Did you fret like my hero
Earlier had done in a pumpkin patch? Enemy dear, Oh
You must have felt like Goliath after
One tiny shepherd appeared to do battle
Until you felt your laughter stop you
Like a stone in the forehead and addled
At the absurdity, as the judges made you rue
Ultimately how your own sense of humor
Grew like a malignant tumor.
Here, let's toast your downfall, friend: laughing is really the best way to end.

3-24-2017

In like a lamb
That German monk that lived so long ago: Eckhart
He said, more or less: if the only prayer you say in  
Answer is "Thank You," it would be enough. Apart
Now from those who would hear me, still when 
Kindness comes out of nowhere, i know
Years of misunderstanding are not enough to 
Overturn what the act of that dying blow 
Unleashed to sin, once and for all. We grew 
So much in that moment of his election 
One life for God alone to show us how to live. 
Many are confused by our daily, slo-mo crucifixion
Uniting us with him. Each thank you, we give--
Chosen not forced-- each step pounds like hammers:
Hear the roar subside as the journey begins: soft as lamb's ears.

3-7-2017

Walking in your shoes

Where i come from You were so much bigger:
Holding my fingers to balance
Every step and guide me. Your figure
Reaches to me even today to steady my stance.
Each step i take reminds me i am not alone.
I still hear your voice's amusement when i teeter.
Chasing me later, were you sorry for my runaway abandon
Or did you know the outcome from the theater
Margaret Wise Brown painted for us--as the bunny championed
Escape in so many ways only to be captured with love
Forever? Now here we stand precariously. I watch you
Reach with your cane. I cower from above
Only now realizing what you meant by your smiles and winks:
"Maybe bunny literature is the answer to the riddle of the sphinx."

2-22-2017

Dune Jumping

How we jumped, the two us, that year when Mom and Dad
And Marjie and we vacationed in South Carolina.
Perhaps that time, distilled better than it was, evokes sad
Pleasure for you as well. For me, I like to imagine how fine a
Youthful line we drew in the sand; separating our lives from
Boys like us from Dayton, Ohio at the century's turn.
In a similar way, our father bought us a flying toy. Some
Reasonable spark of how a kite can fuel what innovation burns:
The lift of wonder can lead us through boredom, so that gravity
Has no sway. Do you cherish, still, the weightlessness of leaving
Dunes and embracing wind outside of time
As I do, dear brother? Even a landing with sand in
Your mouth was worth the dream of flying at Myrtle Beach.
Earthbound eons are worth grasping for eternal brevity.
Realizations of a moment often end in sputtering levity.
Icier would be no wind and no toy of any kind.